Resolution
by PrismMist
Summary: This is a one-shot about how Annabeth feels when Percy disappears, and how people try to help her. This takes place approximately after "The Lost Hero" but before "The Son of Neptune." The story is pretty sad, but it has a hopeful tone. Please read and review!


**A/N: **This is my first fanfic. Enjoy!

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**Jason POV**

Since returning from our quest to free Hera, Piper, Leo, and Jason had slipped into the comfortable routine of camp activities—archery, rock climbing, sparring, and, of course, working on building the _Argo II_.

About to enter Cabin One, Jason looked to his left and saw a lone figure sitting solitarily on the beach. Her curly blond hair tumbled down her back. She was wrapped up in a grey sweatshirt much too big for her, with the name JACKSON emblazoned in bold letters on the back. Next to her was an old-fashioned bulky boombox. Melancholy melodies spilled out of the music player's double speakers, tugging at Jason's heart. Recognizing the figure as Annabeth, Jason sighed inwardly in sympathy, thinking for the umpteenth time, _She must have really loved Percy..._

Thinking there must be at least _something_ he could do to help, Jason closed his cabin door and strode softly toward the desolate scene on the beach.

**Annabeth POV**

She sat on their favorite spot on the beach, sinking into the familiar comfort of Percy's clothes, his salty sea scent still lingering on the fabric. Annabeth fumbled with the boombox, inserting the CD labeled "Sad." She numbly hit the "play" button, staring into the ocean. The blue-green waters reminded her so much of his eyes—penetrating, profound, turbulent. They were capable of expressing a hundred emotions at the same time.  
She closed her eyes and breathed in as a warm ocean breeze swept past her face, and she remembered how Percy always seemed to have a permanent breeze ruffling up his hair...his jet-black hair that could never stay flat. Suddenly, the mental image of Percy's unruly locks and eternally bewildered expression had Annabeth choking out a cross between a laugh and a sob. But she stopped herself. She gingerly touched her face. Dry. Good. She couldn't break, not yet, not now. She returned to her previous vigil, eyes trained on the horizon as though she could simply wish him back. But she knew it was impossible. The _Argo II_ still had six more months before completion...

She was jolted out of her pensive mood when she felt someone sit down next to her. Before looking to see who it was, she assessed how this person was sitting. A reserved distance away from her, unobtrusive. Wary. But still close enough to be friendly. Taking this information to heart, she looked up and saw Jason looking at her from the corner of his eye.

He said, "Hey," a friendly, seemingly meaningless greeting that could imply a hundred things.  
Annabeth turned her head back to the front, and got out, "Hi" without looking at him. Looking at the boy whom Hera sent to replace Percy was simply too painful.  
Jason took a breath and said, "I know it hurts right now, and I just wanted you to know...it's ok to let it out. No one expects you to hold it in all the time."  
He leaned closer to her and said, "Even though we are demigods...it's ok to give in to our human side for once."  
He leaned away again and continued, "We're all trying our hardest to find Percy, and I'm positive that we _will _find him." Annabeth was silent for a while, and Jason didn't push her.  
Then she stated simply, "Thank you." And she meant it.

Jason nodded his head in acknowledgement, and, knowing she wanted to be left alone, got up and left.

...

After a timeless spell on the beach, Annabeth finally summoned up the resolution to leave her safe haven and return to the reality of Camp Half-Blood. As she was heading back to Cabin Six, a certain barnacle-encrusted, grey bedrock cabin caught her eye. Cabin Three. She hadn't been inside it since Percy disappeared. Annabeth cautiously crept up to the door and turned the handle. A gust of wind came flowing out, and it smelled so comforting, so abandoned, so _him_ that her last reserves of self-control came crumbling down. The boombox crashed to the ground as Annabeth herself crumpled in a heap on the dirt, tears threatening to spill out of her blood-shot eyes—the result of many sleepless nights. In her hazy consciousness Jason's words echoed in her mind:

_...it's ok to let it out._

These six words broke the dam, and tears came flooding out of those half-shut grey eyes, sobs wracking her body. She didn't know how long she stayed there like that—was it two minutes, an hour, several overcast stormy nights? She only looked up when she felt a calloused hand on her shoulder.

It was Clarrisse. She was looking at Annabeth with a rare expression of tenderness, an expression that she had previously reserved only for Silena Beauregard.

"Come on, Annie, let's get you inside. I brought you some hot chocolate and a warm blanket. Let's go inside, and we can talk."

...

Annabeth took a deep breath and, with Clarrisse's support, walked through the open doorway of Percy's cabin. Everything was as he had left it—the Minotaur horn hanging on the wall, the watch-shield Tyson had made for him, messy clothes hastily shoved in the drawers, even the bedsheets strewn haphazardly on the bed. After Clarrisse closed the cabin door, Annabeth sunk down onto Percy's bed, hugging her mug of hot chocolate to her, while Clarrisse tactfully took a seat on one of the empty bunks. Everything was silent for a few minutes, a comfortable silence, while Annabeth drank in her surroundings and dwelled on her sorrow.

Out of the blue, she spoke in a soft voice, "I just—I miss him so much, Clarrisse."

Softly, Clarrisse replied, "I know, girlie, I miss him too. The whole camp does. But we understand that this must be the hardest for you. But you must never give up."

A few more moments of silence, then: "It hurts." It was spoken in such a faint voice, but in the quiescent cabin, her voice was easily distinguishable. Normally, Annabeth wouldn't allow herself to appear so weak in front of Clarrisse. But she just needed _some_ kind of refuge, a vent to air out her emotions, and Clarrisse was there for her.

Clarrisse put a comforting hand on Annabeth's back, saying, "I know, I know. But things are going to get better."

"How do you know?"

Clarrisse replied, "They always do."

...

Annabeth woke up at the crack of dawn, resting in Percy's sweet-smelling bunk. She had taken to sleeping here every night of Percy's absence, enjoying what little she had left of him.

She eased open the wooden door and carefully stepped onto the dewy grass with barefeet, savoring the coolness between her toes.

She faced the rising sun, basking in the steadily growing light of the day.

Annabeth took a deep breath and felt her muscles relax.

_Things are going to get better_.

It wasn't forgiving and forgetting—she could never forget Percy.

It wasn't moving on—he would always be her Seaweed Brain.

It wasn't acceptance—he wasn't gone, she would find him.

No, it was something else.

It was resolution.


End file.
